Bagley Iowa, November 22, 2027, 7:54 AM
“So, is school going to be an everyday thing from now on or what?” Jocelyn Cujoh said, balancing her chair on one leg.
“It was always an everyday thing; it’s not my fault that your father is a deadbeat that took you to the middle of the ocean to splash around with… I’m not even sure, some goddamn oil!? And then your mom… Your mom gets sick and now I gotta bring some brat in my house with no respect for me.” Mildred Zeppeli said, banging around the kitchen with her pots and pans, some bizarre ritual known why only to her.
“What if we compromised, I’ll go every other day and I’ll help you clean up around the house when I’m home. God knows you could sure use it.” Jojo said, gesturing to the house with piles of objects stretching to the ceiling in some places with the rest of her French toast, casting powdered sugar on the floor. “And besides, it was the butterfly reserve he works at. A wonderful place to keep a small child in my opinion.”
“I’d appreciate it if the comments about my living state were left to someone that wasn’t wearing… that.” Jojo’s grandma said, gesturing to her grandkid’s outfit.
“What, we’re just hating out of the blue now?? You know the fit is hard!” Jojo exclaimed, standing from her precarious seating position to show off a sweatshirt stained with syrup brandishing a caterpillar surrounded by ghostly wings, bright blue with the words ‘Atlantic City Insect Reserve’ emboldened under, some sweatpants and a pair of Jordans with the Tom Nook socks. “I thought you were a die hard Nooker!” She exclaimed, a frown adorning her face.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, and we are moving on as of now. Take this wet wipe, grab however many pieces of paper and writing utensils you feel like having, and please get out of my house until I hear that you were at all of your classes.”
“Sure, sure, just let me grab a bag or something. I’m gonna look like an idiot if I just have 3 or 4 loose pieces of paper and a pen.”
“Don’t have one, you’ll be late for school if you don’t leave now and also can’t run a 3-minute mile.”
Jojo grabbed a pen and jumped out an open window, softening her fall from the second story with a hedge and pulled off into a full sprint. As Mildred resumed her morning routine of running around the house slamming cookware together, Jojo turned the corner of the street, preparing for the long trek to get to school. The closest high school was 14.5 miles away, but the buses always ran late so you could usually just say you came in on one of those. Would riding the bus technically be easier? For any sane, normal, person that can’t run 14.5 miles at a full sprint, sure, why not. Unfortunately for the school administration, Jojo was not a normal person. She was fully capable, ready, and willing to run however far she needed to go if it meant she didn’t have to sit on-
“I SAID GET IN THE BUS MOTHERFUCKER! I DON’T GET PAID ENOUGH TO RUN OUT THERE AND GET YOU IN HERE MYSELF, BUT I AM WILLING AND ABLE TO!” Jojo wasn’t quite sure how long that bus had been there, but she was pretty sure it was longer than the driver wanted it to be there. As she got on the bus, she mumbled out a half-hearted apology before looking for a seat… really anywhere, she wasn’t exactly able to be picky these days. She unfortunately had to settle sitting next to somebody, but she had a couple options. A kid screaming at the top of his lungs, a blonde haired girl with an entire makeup stand taking up her seat, a full robot taking up a seat which should be reserved for humans goddamnit, a dude with an occupied fish tank taking up most of his seat, somebody surrounded by 3 or 4 groupies, really the cream of the crop. She eventually settled for an unfortunate best option, but they didn’t look too weird, should be fine. Looked kind of old to be honest, but people get held back. The fedora wasn’t a great sign, but they honestly kind of pulled it off, maybe they were just quiet enough no one brought it up?
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“Madame, I see that you have something on your face. Do you require the use of one my handkerchiefs? I always keep a spare for situations just such as this.” She had to turn away as tears threatened to fall down her face. Why does this always happen to her? Maybe the groupies would accept her as one of their own. She looked towards them as she saw at least one bra fly over the aisles to be caught by the superstar as he did a twirl and swished his hair. Dead end. Maybe the robot wouldn’t mind her being machinist in her head. That fucking thing was already shaking its head. She was going to have to strip it for copper wire now. Could she ask the makeup girl to move something? Probably not, she was pretty hot and scary to talk to. Screaming guy was still going strong unfortunately. Fish tank seemed too chill to disturb. Maybe she could just thug it out?
“My good lady, are you okay? Do you require my shoulder instead to have something solid to rest on?” The tears were falling in full force now. They couldn’t do this to her. This was her first full day, and she already had to put up with this shit. She couldn’t do it. The only sensible plan was to feign psychotic break. People would understand. As she reached for one of the alkaline tablets in her pocket she had prepared for just this sort of occasion, she felt, (unfortunately her only way to describe this) the aura next to her shift. She turned to see a younger kid. He now looked appropriately nervous sitting this close to a complete stranger she wished he had never spoken to before.
“Oh god, did he get to you? I’m so sorry, I have dissociative identity disorder, my other personality is incredibly inconvenient. My name is Hermes Costello, I like gay people and good jokes, it’s nice to meet you, sorry, what did you say your name was again?” He was speaking fast, sentences doubling over each other, looking much more nervous now, but there was a vein on his forehead, pulsing.
“It’s, uh, nice to meet you too man.” Jojo decided to avoid the alkaline tablet for now, it only ever really works once, and she could always just use it again if the freak came back. “My name is Jocelyn Cujoh, but Jojo sounds a lot less like I’m a 40 year old white woman.”
“Haha, that’s a good one. Speaking of which, what kind of music do you like? This will determine the rest of this conversation.”
“Ummm, I guess rap? Big fan of Kendrick Lamar if you-” Hermes had slumped against the window, already asleep. Damn, he wasn’t kidding. What should I have said though? I mean, it’s not like he’s hot enough to try and appease, he’s barely a 5, maybe a 6 if you’re feeling generous, aaand he’s woken up. Please be the normal one, please be the normal one, please please please please. Judging by the fact he was just staring at her; it didn’t seem too likely unfortunately.
“You have no parents, live with your grandma, and were going to run 14.53 miles to school. This, combined with your extreme lack of social skills, means that you have no one in your life that you could go to for an emergency. You only chose this seat because you were too nervous to speak to anyone else on the bus, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the pathetic one started talking to you when he did, you would have tossed a tablet in your mouth and acted like you were having a seizure. Personally, I’d recommend at least asking the kid sitting with the fish tank and then turning to someone else when he says no.”
A deep sigh ripped through her as she stared at the sheer drop of the river they were traveling over. Just because I’m in the aisle doesn’t mean I couldn’t dolphin dive out the other window.
Thankfully for all parties involved, at that moment the bus ground to a stop. The driver leaned out to scream at a pedestrian. Then she slumped back down in her seat. The doors pulling open, a 20 something man ascending the steps. Button up shirt, glasses, some nice pants. Blood was dripping from the bus driver now; Jojo must have missed the gunshot. The man was holding a gun as well. He was walking down the aisle now. That was towards her. That’s bullshit. She didn’t even want to be here. She should be seeing this on the news, sending thoughts and prayers to the family. I guess I’ll have to do something about this. Maybe if I jump him, he’ll shoot my leg on accident or something.
A blunt object was moving towards his head now, but something stopped it about 2 feet away. He spun on the girl who was holding it, a golden bullet ripping into her stomach as she fell onto the floor. Jojo fell too, but she was foaming at the mouth by now, spasming on the floor. The man looked disgusted, stepping over her. She grabbed at the gun pointing it away from her, trying to wrest it from his grip, his finger pulling the trigger a few times by instinct. She pulled it out of his grip and tried to point it at him. Why can’t I raise my arm? She turned her head to see the gun slipping out of her hand as blood dripped onto it. The only thought she could form before slipping into real unconsciousness was, “Oh.”